


“A Quick Cup o’ Joe” by thereal_moriarty

by iriswallpaper



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Coffee Shops, DFP Sherlock, Face-Fucking, Hook-Up, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 14:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11277639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iriswallpaper/pseuds/iriswallpaper
Summary: Hellllooo, Sherlock fans -thereal_morairtyhere. Iriswallpaper walked away and left her laptop logged on to AO3. Silly girl! I’ve written a new fic for my collection so I took advantage of her inattention to post it:thereal_moriarty collectionIt shows up under Iriswallpaper’s username but I’m not letting her take credit for my hard work! You know it’s really quality content written by my, Jim Moriarty's, perfectly manicured hands.  So relax and enjoy - oh, and stop by my collection to see what other fanfic authors I’ve hacked to add new stories to my collection!





	“A Quick Cup o’ Joe” by thereal_moriarty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phqyd_roar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phqyd_roar/gifts).



Sherlock hated nothing more than the mornings after the nights when John stayed at his girlfriend-of-the-week’s place. Those mornings meant a distressing lack of toast and jam, when he stumbled out of his room looking adorably tousled. But even more importantly, it meant a distressing lack of coffee.

John must have finally scored with The One With The Spots - or was it The Boring Teacher this week? The kitchen was dark and deserted. The coffee maker stood cold and silent. Sighing, Sherlock belted his blue silk dressing gown, grabbed his wallet and headed to Speedy’s. 

The stairs chilled Sherlock’s long, shapely feet but why bother with shoes when he was only going two steps west of the front door of 221B Baker Street? Out the door, two strides of his long, muscular legs and he was at Speedy’s door. 

Inside, it was warm and smelled of toast, bacon and coffee - just the way Sherlock liked mornings to smell. _Damn John_ , anyway, for deserting him again for another vapid woman in the revolving door of girlfriends. Along with being cozily warm, Speedy’s was deserted. Working London had long since breakfasted and headed to their boring offices to commence their boring work day. The only other inhabitant of the cafe was Mr. Chaterjee, standing at a stainless steel worktable behind the counter, back turned to Sherlock. 

Moving with his usual lithe grace, Sherlock snuck up to the counter on cat feet. Mr. Chaterjee, apparently absorbed in his task, didn’t react. This gave Sherlock some time to try to deduce just what it was Mrs. Hudson saw in Speedys’ proprietor. _Mrs. Hudson, two wives and countless other women stashed around London, that is._ Sherlock’s eyes took in Mr. Chaterjee’s sleek hair - even darker than his own, with a hint of wave and gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the cafe. It certainly was thick and nearly as luxurious as his own. Letting his gaze drift downward, Sherlock analyzed the back of Mr. Chaterjee’s neck - browned from the sun yet the skin still looked soft. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, then below the bow of his apron strings, Sherlock found two perfectly shaped globes of gluteus maximus.

_Oh!_

Sherlock was an arse man. Nothing captured his imagination more than a muscular, well-shaped behind. 

Eyebrows creeping toward his hairline, Sherlock appreciated Mr. Chaterjee’s lush arse. His tongue slowly traced his bottom lip, leaving a wet trail that cooled quickly. Just as he was licking his lips a second time at the definitely _arousing_ sight, Mr. Chaterjee turned around.

“Oh, hello Sherlock. The usual this morning?” Mr. Chaterjee sounded as friendly as usual but a shiver ran through Sherlock at the sound of the voice he’d heard hundreds of times. _How had he never noticed how deep and resonant that voice sounded?_ How had he never appreciated the hint of accent, the lilt that turned Mr. Chaterjee’s question into music?

With a final lick of his lips, Sherlock leaned a hip on the counter. “Not this morning. I have something _different_ in mind today.” His blazing aqua eyes on Mr. Chaterjee, Sherlock turned on the full force of his seductive charm. 

Mr. Chaterjee looked dazed. Of course he’d noticed his most regular customer’s attractive good looks before. Often, when banging one of the women on his rotation, the thought of Sherlock’s luxurious locks or his mesmerising eyes had crossed his mind. _What bloke didn’t occasionally fantasize about their good looking friend - wasn’t everyone a little bi?_ But holy hell, he never thought Sherlock would return the attention. With a swallow, Mr. Chaterjee slowly reached behind his back to untie the apron strings. Slowly, as if performing a strip tease, he lifted the apron’s neck loop over his head then threw it on the table behind him.

“What do you have in mind for today? A _treat_?”

Now that Mr. Chaterjee’s well-muscled chest was no longer obstructed by the canvas apron, Sherlock noticed how tightly his sheer white dress shirt clung to his pectorals. He hummed his appreciation deep in his throat.

Rounding the counter, Mr. Chaterjee gave Sherlock a searing ‘come hither’ look and headed toward the rear of the restaurant. Following close behind, Sherlock’s hands itched to reach out and squeeze _dat ass_ as it swayed so tantalizingly from side to side with each of Mr. Chaterjee’s strides. 

Mr. Chaterjee paused with his hand on the bathroom door. He turned to Sherlock and whispered, “Yusuf _._ ”

Blinking rapidly, Sherlock tried to process the two syllables he’d just heard through the red-hot haze of lust brewing in his brain. He quirked an eyebrow at his soon-to-be-lover.

“My name. It’s Yusuf. Shouldn’t you at least know my name before we…” Mr. Chaterjee - Yusuf - motioned toward the men’s room door with his chin.

“Yes, of course. Yusuf. It’s … nice.” Sherlock ran through the mental databank of names and their meanings quickly and retrieved: _Yusuf - Indian boy’s name - meaning Increase - Hindi equivalent of Joseph or Joe_. Sherlock gave him a small smile. It was certainly an appropriate name for Mr. Chaterjee. He was sure to _increase_ something today - something below the beltline.

With a small smile in return, Yusuf opened the door to the loo, turned on the lightswitch, then stepped inside. Sherlock crowded into the tiny room and wrapped his arms around Yusuf’s chest from behind. Yusuf was nearly as tall as Sherlock - fitting two tallish men into the tiny water closet necessitated the embrace - and both men certainly enjoyed it. He tweaked Yusuf’s nipples until they were as hard as gemstones, then dropped one arm to pull the door closed behind them. The click of the lock sounded unnaturally loud in the confined space.

Sherlock placed a wet kiss on Yusuf’s nape, savoring the warm, soft skin he found just below the raven hair. “Turn around,” he murmured, kissing that delicious nape a final time. 

Yusuf had to contort his frame to turn in the circle of Sherlock’s embrace - contortions that caused his cock to brush against Sherlock’s. Both men reacted as if electrodes had been attached to their scrotum - Sherlock groaning and Yusuf gasping. Finally, _finally_ , Sherlock was able to reach the object he so longed to hold: Yusuf’s arse. He squeezed and kneaded, pulling Yusuf’s hips tight to his own while Yusuf kissed and licked at Sherlock’s neck. 

Not waiting to be invited, Yusuf kissed up the right side of Sherlock’s neck to capture his earlobe between sharp canine teeth. He bit down just a bit too hard and Sherlock could feel Yusuf’s smile against his skin when Sherlock yelped. 

“Oh, god, _yes_ ,” Sherlock groaned, squeezing Yusuf’s arse cheeks even tighter.

They kissed and frotted for long, sensuous moments until both needed a break for air. ( _Breathing is boring_!) Sherlock pressed Yusuf to sit on the closed toilet lid and once he was unentangled, Sherlock slipped his dressing gown off and laid it over the small sink. Holding Yusuf’s gaze, Sherlock pushed his gray t-shirt up to his armpits then ran his fingers teasingly around both nipples. 

Yusuf breathed a moan of appreciation, watching Sherlock while Yusuf unbuttoned his dress shirt and added it to Sherlock’s robe at the sink. He made quick work of his belt and flies, shoving his trousers down his hips far enough to free his impressive erection and even more impressive bollocks. 

Sherlock dropped his hands from his chest to his waist and shoved his pyjama trousers to the floor. His feet, chilly just a few minutes earlier, felt hot and flushed when he kicked the pyjamas off. As Sherlock bent sideways to pick them up, his cock, flushed and hot, bobbed free. He quickly add them to the growing pile of clothing on the sink. He gave his erection a few soft strokes as he deduced what Yusuf would enjoy the most. 

Yusuf watched with his hands on his knees, mouth slightly open, panting.

Quickly deciding the most appropriate course of action to give them both maximum enjoyment, Sherlock stepped forward and growled, “Open.”

Yusuf did, taking Sherlock’s fat prick deep in his mouth, closing his dark, shapely lips around it in tight suction. One hand came up to hold the base of it to keep himself from gagging. The other fondled Sherlock’s testicles gently.

With one hand on Yusuf’s shoulder and the other around Yusuf’s throat, Sherlock slowly pressed forward until he felt Yusuf’s throat relax to take him in. He groaned loudly at the feeling of his cock in Yusuf’s throat and tightened his hand around Yusuf’s neck to feel himself moving inside it. He wanted to let go and thrust wildly but it was the first time with Yusuf, and they were friends of a sort - Yusuf often fed him - so it seemed bad form to fuck his throat like a stag in rut. He felt a hand squeeze his hip and opened his eyes ( _When had he closed them? He hadn’t noticed_ ) to the sight of Yusuf’s liquid dark eyes looking up at him adoringly, his lips stretched wide around Sherlock’s cock. Yusuf dropped his hand and swallowed Sherlock down the last few inches until his nose brushed Sherlock’s dark pubic hair.

And that was all it took for Sherlock’s vision to go white. The roaring in his ears overtook his senses as he came down Yusuf’s throat, holding his breath as he thrust twice into Yusuf’s mouth before withdrawing to spurt the last few weak pulses of his orgasm into his fist. _After all, it was their first time and Sherlock hadn’t asked if Yusuf minded._

Panting loudly, Sherlock slumped against the door and watched as Yusuf worked his foreskin down, then back up over his glans, gathering the drops of precome that had sprouted there as he sucked Sherlock. Sherlock continued to be held up by the door as Yusuf’s pace quickened, jerking roughly until his eyes closed and he came over his hand, waves of pearly white ejaculate coating Yusuf’s dark, long fingers. Yusuf sat for a moment with his eyes closed, breathing quietly. When he opened his eyes, he nodded sideways toward the pile of clothes on the sink. “Mind moving that?” he asked.

“Oh, quite,” Sherlock replied as he shoved the pile off with his clean hand. He turned on both taps and washed his hands quickly then stepped aside, still nude. Yusuf remained seated - his arms were long enough to reach the sink without getting up. As Sherlock pulled paper towels from the holder, Yusuf washed his hands and scooped water into his mouth to swish and spit. Sherlock handed him a towel as he slipped his pyjama trousers on and tied the drawstring.

After a few minutes of rustling clothing and accidental elbow jabs, both men were dressed and ready to exit the tiny loo. Yusuf circled Sherlock’s wrist with his long fingers as Sherlock turned the lock. 

Sherlock looked up to catch Yusuf smiling at him. “Breakfast special, on the house. Any time you’d like,” Yusuf said.

“I don’t eat when I’m on a case,” Sherlock answered quietly.

“Who said anything about food?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Damn you, Jim! I walk away from my computer for one minute and you hijack it!
> 
> In case you don't know what this fic refers to, see phqyd-roar’s tumblr post:  
> [thereal_moriarty](https://phqyd-roar.tumblr.com/post/161919525267/au-where-instead-of-a-consulting-criminal-moriarty)  
> Check it out - it’s hilarious.
> 
> (Jim told me to say Thank You to MissDavis and Iwantthatcoat for helping him out by beta on this fic.)


End file.
